


Motherlode

by nanasekei



Series: Happy Steve Bingo Fills [30]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Human Disaster Tony Stark, M/M, Pining, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 12:13:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: After Steve returns, though they've made up, his relationship with Tony remains distant.Tony deals with that like any reasonable person would - with a lot of alcohol, pining, and The Sims.





	Motherlode

**Author's Note:**

> For my "Pregnancy" square on the Happy Steve Bingo (I should warn that there's no actual m-preg here, in case the prompt scares anyone lol Spoilery details are on the final notes!). Thanks to Sheron for the beta and feedback here, AND also for the beta blackout on this bingo <3

As most of Tony’s mistakes, it starts out when he’s drunk.

He’s drunk because of Steve. Because Steve is back now, apparently for good. He and his merry band of fugitives have been pardoned, the Accords are under revision, and he and Tony have made up. Truly, honestly made up. Few things put pointless fights in perspective like a Mad Titan knocking on your planet’s door.

So Tony and Steve are not mad at each other anymore. They’re speaking normally. All things considered, they’re fine.

That’s why Tony’s drunk. He’s drunk because Steve is back, and they’re _fine,_ and that’s apparently all they’ll ever be. He’s drunk because Steve hasn’t moved back to the compound, instead settling into some shitty apartment in Brooklyn, and whenever he comes around for training or to work on Avengers business, he and Tony greet each other and make small talk about the weather and that’s it.

He’s drunk because he’s an idiot. Because he was hoping that, once he and Steve have made up, things between them could… _be different,_ maybe. He was hoping they’d understand each other better. He was hoping he’d be able to look into Steve’s eyes and say something that wasn’t a snarky comment—hell, he was hoping he’d be able to ask Steve out for lunch or something, in between U.N. meetings. He was hoping they’d see each other more, and spend more time together, and…

It would be easier.

He and Steve are fine, but fine is not enough.

Therefore: alcohol.

Truth be told, the problem doesn’t really start because he’s drunk. It starts because he’s alone in his workshop, navigating through panels and archives aimlessly, and he runs into Vision’s latest The Sims file.

Vision has been into The Sims for years now. At first Tony thought it was hilarious, but Vision defended it earnestly, arguing it gives him good insight into human interactions. Tony had exchanged a meaningful look with Rhodey at the thought that Vision viewed The Sims as an accurate portrayal of human interactions, they shrugged, and now Vision is just into the game. Vision makes a lot of mods and shares them on the internet, and it’s a bit of a hit. Tony is pretty sure there are downloadable copies of the Avengers compound online, ready to be built in game.

Tony, on the other hand, hasn’t played The Sims for even a minute. He’s never been huge with simulation games—he either gets out of control with getting everything perfect or burns everything down in flames, no in between.

But The Sims 2 is, after all, a classic.

When the game starts loading, a corner of his brain (the same corner that constantly gives him great advice like _buy Pepper a giant bunny_ or _a suit of armor around the world, yeah, that’s going to work_ ) wonders if Vision made models of them. Them, as in, the Avengers.

Then the same corner of his brain jumps to wondering if there are models of them, as in, Tony and Steve.

That’s where it gets messy.

* * *

As it turns out, Vision did make models of the two of them, but Tony chooses not to use them, because a) Viz gave Steve a beard, and Tony hates that fucking beard, he nearly started dancing in the middle of a conference room when Steve walked into the U.N. clean-shaved; and b) those pants he gave Tony to wear? Really, Viz? No way.

So he makes his own models. Or, fine, let’s just call it what it is, his own _family_. He makes himself and he makes Steve, and then he thinks making just the two of them is too creepy so he makes a dog, which, coming to think of it, doesn’t really help the newly-weds vibe, but okay.

He gives himself Knowledge aspiration, and after much thought he gives Family to Steve, because Justice For All is not an aspiration and he needs to pick _something._ He makes himself want to be a mechanic, and he gets Steve into law enforcement, because the lifetime goal Become Captain Hero is too appropriate to resist.

He names the dog Friday, which makes _actual_ Friday lock up the liquor cabinet, saying _I think you’ve had enough for tonight, Boss._

He does not start out the game with him and Steve in a relationship, but when he begins playing, all the immediate wishes of Sim Tony are about Steve. Talking to Steve, playing games with Steve, telling Steve a joke. Typical.

Then he clicks on Steve’s wishes, and there it is: Talking to Tony, playing games with Tony, laughing at Tony’s joke.

He clicks on Sim Steve, then clicks on Sim Tony, and sets Sim Steve to “Talk to Tony”.

And so they talk.

 _If only it were this easy,_ Tony thinks, clinging to his glass.

* * *

The next day, when Steve drops by to train Peter, Tony almost chokes on his coffee out of guilt.

Steve lays one strong, warm hand on his back, looking at him with worried blue eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony coughs, managing to swallow another sip. He doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes. “Just, uh, didn’t sleep much last night. Might’ve drifted off while drinking. Hardly the first time that ever happened.”

“Oh,” Steve says, scrutinizing Tony with his gaze. Tony tries his best to not let _I made simulated versions of you and me in my computer and I think they’re falling in love_ show in his expression. “You can’t keep doing this, Tony. It’s not healthy.” And Tony can hear the scowl in his voice, the disapproval. “What if we had a mission?”

The judgment on his face sparks annoyance in Tony’s chest, and he immediately slips away from Steve's touch. “None of your business, Cap.”

Steve’s face shows a glimpse of hurt before closing in an annoyed expression, and Tony turns away and leaves.

* * *

When Tony gets back to his lab, he wants to let that anger out. Because who is Steve to touch Tony’s back with that gentle warm hand and stare at him with those blue eyes as he judges Tony’s sleeping habits? No one, that’s who. They’re barely even friends and there Steve is, trying to give him orders, acting like he cares when it's only a moral obligation that makes him worry about whether Tony was sleeping enough or not.

Tony turns on the game. His plan is to build a pool, make Sim Steve go swim, remove the stairs, and then watch as he drowns.

The plan fails, though. Firstly because he gets too distracted building the pool (building stuff is the best aspect of the game, in Tony’s opinion – he, Steve and Friday have the best house of the entire neighborhood), and secondly because, when Sim Steve starts to want to get out of the pool and there are no stairs, Tony can’t help but feel like shit. He can’t do it. Even a bunch of pixels with Steve’s name is enough to make him weak.

So, when Death comes to pick Sim Steve up, Tony sends Sim Tony to bargain with her. He wins, of course, but he was prepared to hack the entire game if he didn’t.

Then Sim Steve comes to thank Sim Tony, and they start talking again, and – okay, it’s a mechanic of the game that sims of the same group will have wishes about each other, Tony _gets it_ , but it still tugs his heartstrings when he sees the line up of Sim Steve’s wishes. It goes: thank Tony, hug Tony, shake Tony’s hand, learn how to make pancakes.

The last one has the positive effect of reminding Tony that this is still a fucking video game, and he’s making starry eyes because a version of Steve he made up likes him.

There’s pathetic, and there’s the level he’s at right now, which Tony suspects is an entirely new category of depressing.

Still, he clicks on Sim Tony, and the wishes are pretty much the same (including the one about pancakes, which reminds Tony he hasn’t taught either of them to cook anything yet, so they’ve been living off cereal and juice boxes). There’s just one difference: In the place where Sim Steve had _Thank Tony_ as a wish, Sim Tony has _kiss Steve_

Tony very determinedly breaks the Sims apart and sends them both to read culinary books. He will _not_ go there.

But… It keeps happening. He puts the game on ultra speed and every time he leaves Sim Tony without a command, he wants to do something with Sim Steve; and vice-versa. Sim Steve goes to sleep and a balloon thought with Sim Tony’s face pops up over his head. Tony gets distracted for a moment and they just start dancing together in the living room, to the sound of _Bonito._

Tony considers breaking them apart again, but… they look so happy.

And besides, there’s nothing wrong with fulfilling the Sims’ wishes, right? That’s just the goal of the game, after all.

So Tony lets them dance. And when they finish, he makes them talk. And they talk and tell each other jokes and hug each other over and over again until the romantic options show up, and then both of their wishes bars are filled with each other.

Tony makes them flirt – Sim Tony gives Sim Steve a rose, Sim Steve writes a serenade for Sim Tony, and Sim Tony tells Sim Steve a dirty joke. Tony makes them repeat that ad nauseum, even after the “have first kiss with Steve” action appears, because he’s not risking getting rejected in a _video game,_ thank you very much. He makes sure they’re at 100/100 on the relationship bar, and then makes them kiss.

There’s cheesy music, silly animation and little hearts floating everywhere. They kiss some more, and then Sim Steve gets the wish to “Have a serious relationship”, which Tony locks for later (because holy shit, Sim Steve, take it easy, buddy). Then _Sim Tony_ gets the same wish, and that’s when Tony decides that’s enough gaming for the night. He makes the happy couple watch TV and cuddle together, pointedly ignores the balloon thought with the “Woo-hoo” symbol that appears over Sim Tony’s head, and goes to sleep.

* * *

The next time he runs into Steve is a few days later.

They’re at a gala, and Tony wished he could have skipped it, but he and Steve are kind of the main faces at any press event right now. It’s important that they’re both there and that they’re seen together, to sell the team’s unity.

So Tony needs to come, and he needs to look at Steve in a goddamn black three-piece suit that makes him look like three healthy, nutritious meals wrapped in one gorgeous, blue-eyed package. Tony lays his eyes on him and feels his breath hitch, and for a second he’s _dizzy_ with want, and in the next second he’s just mad as hell at Steve for doing that to him, even if by accident.

“Hi, Tony,” Steve says when Tony approaches him, and Tony almost answers _fuck you_ right on the spot, because it’s not _fair,_ there should be a _law_ in place to stop Steve from dressing like this. Maybe at the next meeting with the U.N. Tony will propose one.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony says, shaking Steve’s hand too fast to avoid thinking of how warm it is. About a million cameras flash around them, and Steve gives Tony a strained smile that’s clearly for the reporters, so Tony smiles back. “What a shitty night, huh?” he whispers, too low for anyone else to hear. Steve lets out a genuine chuckle.

“It’s not so bad,” he says, blue eyes sparkling with something Tony doesn’t quite get. Steve seems to hesitate for a moment, but then he leans forward, plastering the same smile as before when he whispers: “I’m starving.”

It’s Tony’s turn to let out a laugh. “I know where the food table is.” He gives Steve a pat on the shoulder, then nods towards the entrance. “Follow me, my Captain.”

Tony walks past the horde of reporters and gets inside the salon, with Steve right behind him. The salon is beautifully lit and roomy, with a low classic music playing, and there are many people already inside, gathering in groups.

In a minute, both Tony and Steve will have to go around the room and greet everyone, so it’s kind of a thrill to go straight to the snacks table instead. It’s the kind of small rebellion Steve would resist, because it’s so impolite and meaningless, so Tony can’t help but keep throwing glances over his shoulder to make sure he’s still following him, and, yeah, there Steve is, as dashing in that suit as he was when Tony first laid eyes on him tonight.

Tony ends up stumbling against the table, distracted by looking at Steve, and Steve, supersoldier that he is, stops just in time to grab Tony’s elbow and help him get steady.

Tony is stammering an excuse when Steve gives him a smile that stops him in his tracks.

Tony smiles back nervously and then turns towards the food, trying to distract himself from Steve, but it’s hard. He can’t help but sneak a glance, and Steve catches his eye, grinning.

“Do you like it?”, he asks, running those big hands of his over the lapels of his jacket. His blue eyes look at Tony from under blonde eyelashes before he continues. “I was hoping to get your stamp of approval.”

And Tony must be a little drunk, even if he hasn’t had a sip of alcohol yet, because the question with that smile makes it seem like… Well, it _would_ make it seem like Steve is flirting with him, which is impossible. Because it’s Steve. He barely talks to Tony anymore, so why would he flirt with him?

So Tony rationalizes that Steve must be kidding. Which is still more than Steve has talked to him in the past months, so, hey, he’s gonna take it.

“You look like a tailor’s wet dream,” he says, and Steve’s smile grows, the skin in the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that makes Tony’s chest tighten. Tony abruptly turns, attempting to hide his reaction and directing himself back towards the table instead. “So, are you more of a pig-in-a-blanket or a salmon rolls type of guy?”

Steve steps next to him. “Sam got a kick out of the fact I didn’t know what a pig-in-a-blanket was, at our first gala,” he says in a low voice, so Tony has to lean closer to hear, which he really doesn’t want to do, because getting closer to Steve is too tempting and too dangerous.

“Definitely a reality shock.” Tony pops one of the smoked salmon rolls into his mouth, chewing.

Steve leans over the table to grab a pig-in-a-blanket, but he doesn’t eat it. He holds it awkwardly for a moment, and then he turns towards Tony, seemingly forgetting the food.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, and Tony almost chokes on the salmon. _Starving, my ass,_ he manages to think while swallowing, but Steve’s eyes search his face, seeming genuinely pained. “I’m sorry for before, in the kitchen.”

“It’s okay,” Tony replies immediately, because he just wants Steve to stop talking. “Cap, I don’t even remember what—“

“I know I had no right to say something like that,” Steve continues, as if Tony hadn’t interrupted. “I didn’t mean to judge your habits. I just… I worry about you, Tony.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say. Steve just stands there, looking at him with those clear, bright eyes, still holding the pig-in-a-blanket awkwardly in one hand, and it occurs to Tony that this is Steve making an effort, reaching out to him. This is Steve being honest, Steve being open, Steve doing what Tony wanted him to do.

So Tony thinks: _I worry about you, too._ Because he does. And he wants to say that, wants Steve to know, but the instinct in his head is to lie, to keep it inside, to not risk airing feelings he’s too scared to let Steve see. His instinct is to put some distance between them. His instinct is to avoid Steve’s eyes. His instinct is to say _don’t worry about me_.

Tony doesn’t want to listen to his instinct. He _doesn’t_ , because listening to their crappy and failed instincts about each other is what led him and Steve to needing to watch half the universe die before starting to talk to each other again. Pushing those instincts aside, talking, being honest and open towards each other is what led them here, to this semi-normal friendship they’ve got now. This relationship they patched together with a mess of hot glue and tape, that’s a miracle in itself, and even that is not enough for Tony, because he needs to be selfish, needs to want more. He and Steve managed a miracle and he wants another one, an impossible one.

So he says, “Do you?” Because he wants more. Steve worries about him, Steve is giving him that piece of emotional truth on a silver platter, but Tony wants more.

Steve’s eyes widen. “Of course I do”, he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he can’t fathom that Tony would even _ask_ that.

And the way he says it – the way his voice softens the slightest bit, the way his face frowns in that half-confused and half-indignant gaze, that’s what fucks Tony up, sends a warmth all over his face and chest, and hits him with the realization that this is it, this is how it will always be. No matter what Steve gives him, he’ll always want more, because he wants everything.

He wants _Steve_.

And he can’t have him.

Tony takes a sharp breath, trying to keep himself steady, to calm down the feel of yearning in his chest. That organ that got permanently damaged by the shrapnel wants to ask for more, wants Steve to tell him he cares for him, thinks about him, _loves—_

“That’s nice,” is what he says, like an idiot, and it must sound as awkward as he thinks it does, because Steve gives him a bashful smile.

“I know we haven’t talked much lately”, Steve says, and Tony’s heart hammers in his chest in fear, suddenly horrified that Steve could have seen through how much their superficial interactions bothered Tony, that he could have realized what that means. “I want you to know I haven’t been ignoring you. ‘s just… Life has been busy,” Steve finishes, and he doesn’t seem satisfied with his own words, but Tony barely notices that, nodding frantically, thankful for the noncommittal excuse.

“Same here,” he says, even though his mind says: _So busy I created a Sims family of the two of us, plus a dog, that I play when thinking about you makes me sad._

Steve smiles again, his blue eyes finding Tony’s face, and Tony can see him inhaling sharply, as if he needs extra air right now, as if he’s huffing oxygen on the surface one last time before diving. “I miss you.”

Tony opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, then closes it again, then opens one last time so all of his hopes can slip through it: “Really?”

Steve doesn’t look away. “Yeah.”

It’s Tony’s turn to take a breath, but it doesn’t feel like air reaches his lungs – or maybe it does, but his chest shrunk under those azure eyes, and Tony is just physically not capable of breathing anymore. Whatever, he thinks, a little frantically. Steve misses him.

“We should do something,” Tony says, and he vaguely wonders if his voice maybe sounds too fast, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a single fuck. “I, I don’t know, maybe – lunch? That, that sounds a little like, _let’s do lunch sometime_ , and then we never see each other again, but I mean in the literal sense like, actually seeing each other for… For lunch.”

If Steve cares about Tony’s inability to form a sentence like a normal human being, he doesn’t show. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow is great,” Tony blurts, before his genius brain reminds him that he’s got meetings during the entire week. “Uh. Actually, thinking about it, I’m a little swept with work this week.”

Steve deflates, or maybe Tony _wants_ him to deflate, wants to see him disappointed so much he’s convincing himself he’s seeing something that's not there. “Oh.”

“Yeah. But, but, maybe Monday? I can definitely do Monday.” Tony fights the urge to clutch his hands together.

“Great,” Steve says, smiling brightly, and Tony can’t, he just _can’t_ handle that smile. It makes him want to float and giggle and dance and do all sorts of crazy things. It makes him want to kiss Steve.

He clutches his hands, giving in to one indulgence over the insane, dangerous other. “Awesome. That’s, that’s awesome.” Then, out of sheer despair, he reaches for another salmon roll, popping it in his mouth.

On the plus side, it gives something to busy his mouth with that isn’t, you know, Steve’s lips. On the down side, he’s now awkwardly chewing with a full mouth in front of Steve.

That seems to remind Steve of the forgotten pig-in-a-blanket on his hand, and he hurriedly eats it, cheeks flushing a little.

So now they’re both chewing. It’s great.

“Uh,” Steve says, when he manages to swallow – and _nope nope nope, Tony is not focusing on this image, he’s not—_ “I should make the rounds.”

Tony nods, swallowing his own bite so fast he almost chokes. “Yeah, definitely. Me too. So, uh, Monday?”

Steve’s smile grows to could-easily-replace-the-Sun levels. “Monday.”

* * *

The following week, Tony goes to his meetings. All his meetings. Because he’s a grown, mature man who’s not gonna spend the entire week worrying over his not-a-lunch-date with Steve. Absolutely not.

He also plays a lot of The Sims.

Thing is, it’s just, that, well, Tony’s got a mechanic’s mind, okay? He needs to… to _do_ things and see results. He’s a scientist, he likes to experiment, to evaluate all kinds of possibilities.

Which is not to say Tony’s using his The Sims account as a Steve Dating Simulator. He’s not. That would be preposterous. It would be creepy and wrong, which is why Tony is not doing that. He’s playing The Sims because it’s a fun game, and he happens to use the sims versions of him and Steve he created, because it’d be just so much work to create new characters. He’s playing it and making Sim Steve talk to Sim Tony and hug him and laugh at his jokes not because he wishes real Steve would do that, but because it’s good for the _character_. That’s it.

Plus it’s – it’s a good game. It’s addictive, and it’s fun, and, fine, maybe the fact that there’s at least one _version_ of Steve Tony can definitely make happy is part of the appeal, but. It’s not all of it.

Building houses is kind of fun too.

The night before his definitely-not-a-lunch-date with Steve, Tony works on the Sims hobbies. He makes Sim Tony work out (Sim Tony works out a lot, and he’s getting _ripped,_ which has absolutely nothing to do with real Tony approaching his fourth fourty-fifth birthday. Nothing at all), and he makes Sim Steve cook and paint, because working out sounds too much like what Steve does for training, and Tony wants him to do stuff for pleasure.

To his surprise, Sim Steve gets a wish to buy a telescope. Tony immediately complies, buying the Farstar e3, for the bagatelle of 2.300 simoleons (Tony was not going to use any cheat codes on this game, but, since real him is a billionaire, it’s only fair Sim him would get to be one too, so, yeah, he motherlode’d it, sue him, EA). He places Sim Steve stargazing, because that seems nice and his needs are all filled, so there’s not much else to do. Sim Tony, however, is tired, so Tony sends him to bed. Both of them being busy, he sets ultra speed and distracts himself on his phone for a minute or two.

Then the game just starts playing a weird animation. Tony looks up to watch as an alien spaceship shows up in the sky, casts a light beam over a terrified Sim Steve, and takes him. Just like that, he’s gone.

Tony blinks. Apparently, even the Sim versions of him and Steve need to keep an eye out for insane aliens.

Sim Friday goes to the backyard and barks at the sky. To Tony’s shocked amusement, Sim Tony doesn’t seem to notice Sim Steve is gone. Real Tony kind of envies his nonchalance.

It doesn’t take too long in the game for the spaceship to return, pretty much dumping Sim Steve back in the backyard.

Tony checks his stats. He’s tired, but otherwise, he seems to have taken getting abducted pretty well. This game is really something.

Then, as he keeps on playing, something weird happens. Sim Steve is making food, and then all of a sudden he stops and goes to the bathroom to throw up, which Tony finds weird, because he’s not sick. And then.

He gets a baby bump.

Because it’s a goddamn computer game, the baby bump just shows up, bizarrely, stretching the front of Sim Steve’s outfit as if he’s just stuck a melon under his shirt. Almost automatically, Sim Tony gets the wish to “speak to Steve’s belly”.

Tony feels the urge to give a hysterical laughter. He also thinks _aww, they’re having a baby_ ; which is when he realizes it’s time for him to go to bed.

* * *

When he meets Steve for their Tony-really-wishes-it-was-an-actual-date lunch, Tony is, at first, at a complete loss of what to say. They’re in a Burger King right next to the new SHIELD headquarters, sitting at an isolated table, and Tony loses all his characteristic ability to blab, staring at Steve across the table. It’s just a lunch in a goddamn junk food place, but it feels more important than any dinner at a five-star-restaurant Tony’s ever had.

Steve seems tense too, his posture rigid against the plastic chair. To Tony’s surprise, though, he breaks the ice, asking about Tony’s busy week.

This gets Tony talking. He babbles endlessly about his newest project for the arc technology, how he’s incorporating schematics Shuri sent him, how he’s considering sending the Guardians a message to see if Rocket wants to take a look and give him his opinion, how the board reacted when he told them Rocket was a raccoon.

Steve laughs, eyes crinkling as he picks up his fries. Tony can still detect some tension in his shoulders, but he seems to be enjoying himself. Tony offers Steve a bite of his burger, then takes one from his, and then they bicker about pickles.

When they decide to get milkshakes, Steve is laughing at Tony’s threats to program Friday to throw away any pickles she finds in the compound’s dispense and Tony’s feeling dizzy with happiness, almost a little drunk.

This is working, he thinks. He can do this.

Then Steve gets a phone call.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he says after taking a look at the screen. Tony nods, taking a sip of his milkshake.

Then he starts talking with whoever it is, and he gets a huge smile, and Tony can’t help but notice it’s _such_ a huge smile, and, and it’s kind of bigger than the ones he gave Tony, right?

And Tony doesn’t want to get this in his head, he tries to look away, but Steve’s voice sounds so relaxed and light while he’s talking, and Tony can’t help but think this is the most relaxed he’s been all afternoon. It’s like the tension underlining his every move until now just dissipated.

And Tony thought this was working, but clearly he was wrong, and maybe Steve isn’t having such a good time as he is. Maybe Steve is counting the minutes until he can leave Tony’s company. Maybe—

“Sorry about that,” Steve says with an apologetic grin, after finishing the call. He takes his milkshake from the counter and takes a sip and licks his lips afterward, and Tony can’t help but think he must taste of chocolate. He tries to look away, but he feels his face warming, the nervous feeling from earlier clenching his stomach.

“’s okay, Cap.” Tony shifts, taking a long sip of his milkshake. Suddenly his blabber from before seems annoying, and, God, he dominated the entire conversation, of course Steve was bored. Of course he wasn’t having fun. Shit, he couldn't have signed this in some way, right? Like, with a minus red sign showing up over his head or whatever.

Steve stares at him, clearly confused by his sudden silence. Tony wants to act normally, but he can’t. He feels like he’s just gotten a “screwed up a date” humor modification, like there’s a goddamn icon of a broken heart over his head.

“Tony?” Steve lays a hand on his shoulder, and his hand is so warm and heavy, Tony wants to lean into the touch, wants to throw his arms around Steve’s waist, wants to taste the chocolate off his lips. He wants and wants and wants, and he can’t have any of that.

“Maybe we should cut this short, Cap,” Tony answers sharply, taking a step away, letting Steve’s hand slip off. Every cell of his body protests, but Tony is not gonna listen to them anymore, he’s gonna ignore the way his heart flutters at Steve’s proximity and focus on what his genius brain has already figured out a long time ago: Tony is fooling himself if he thinks Steve will ever feel the same way he feels, and he needs to stop doing that. Steve can’t even have a fun time having lunch with him. “I still have some documents I need to check on.”

“Oh.” Steve frowns. “That’s a shame.”

 _No, it isn’t,_ Tony thinks. _Stop being polite, stop being nice, stop looking at me like that, for fuck’s sake, I’m trying to make things easier for you here._

“Yeah,” he says instead, picking up his phone, already turning towards the exit. “Ok, this was fun, let’s do it again sometime, etc. Bye, Cap.”

He doesn’t look back to see Steve’s face. He thinks it’s better this way.

* * *

When he gets home, he doesn’t want to turn the game on. It’s not a good idea. It’s just gonna hurt him. But Tony is always been talented at hurting himself, and, anyway, he is already hurting, so why deny himself this small torture?

So he runs the game to see Sim Tony and Sim Steve being very happy, Sim Tony talking to Steve’s pregnant belly, Sim Steve holding Sim Tony’s hand to help him caress the belly (God, this game is cheesy), both of them chatting happily in meaningless gibberish.

Tony plays it, almost on auto pilot. Sim Tony’s wishes are all related to Steve and the unborn baby. Sim Steve’s belly keeps getting bigger, and he changes into hideous pajamas that are apparently supposed to be pregnancy clothes, and Tony has lost it, he truly has, because it makes him almost emotional when the “have a baby” action shows up. He clicks it, doing his best to believe the burning feeling in his eyes is just from staring at the screen too long.

And then the game pauses.

“Uh,” Tony says, trying to press the play. The game starts, and then pauses again.

Friday’s voice answers him: “Sorry, Boss, but you were ignoring your visitor.”

“My. My _what?_ ”

Tony removes his headphones just in time for Steve fucking Rogers, standing at his side, to lean next to him and say, in the most casual tone: “So, what name are you going to pick?”

Tony pretty much jumps in his chair. “I- I- What? How- How long have you been there?”

Steve’s face is blank. “A couple minutes.”

“You… You were…”

Steve shifts, turning towards Tony, eyes impossible to read searching his face. “I wanted to ask you what happened at lunch. I thought maybe I should let you be, but I wanted to at least try to understand.”

Tony swallows. “Understand what?”

Steve crosses his arms. “You know what.” Then something in his face softens, and Tony’s heart aches, because he looks _lost_. “I thought we were having a good time.”

Tony looks away, hands clutching each other. “Did you?” He finally asks. “Have a good time?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Yes? Why are you asking that?”

Tony sighs. “Come on, Cap.” He runs a hand over his face. “You don’t have to… Listen, you don’t have to do this, okay? Just… You can be honest. When your friend called—”

Steve frowns. “Sharon? We hadn’t talked in a while,” he says, still seeming to not follow Tony’s logic. “I know it was rude to take the call, but she was meant to update me on her latest mission. I didn’t mean to—“

“No, really, it’s _fine._ I rambled endlessly, you were bored, and then your friend – _Sharon_ ,” Tony can’t help but say the name with resentment, because now he’s wondering if the call was maybe something other than friendly, and the thought feels like a punch to his chest. “Sharon called and you were like a different man.”

Steve just stares at him for a moment, tilting his head.

“Tony,” he says finally. “I think you should say what you mean, here. Between the two of us, that’s… that’s important.”

Tony sighs again, because Steve’s right. He can’t keep doing this.

“You were not happy,” he blurts. “I… I’m so fucking stupid – I looked forward to that lunch the whole week, and I made such a big deal in my head, but you were not having a good time.” He takes a sharp breath. “Because—because it wasn’t the same to you, and I get that, I really do, but I guess I just wanted it so bad that I just let myself believe it could be—“

Steve looks even more lost. “Tony, you’re not making any sense.”

And now Tony’s frustrated, because he’s trying, damnit, and it’s not that hard to understand, it can’t be, can it? “Yes, I am. You just don’t want to admit it, because you always need to be so fucking _nice—“_

“Seems to me you’re the one who doesn’t want to admit something.”

“Actually, no, it’s _you_ , because you can’t just admit what’s right in front of your face—“

“Tony, that’s not—“

“Because you need to hear it, apparently, I need to fucking humiliate myself or—“

“I would never want you to—“

“Because God forbid you’d just give up on something when it’s not fucking working—“

“You walk out in the middle of our date and I’m supposed to—“

“Because you’re so goddamn stubborn that—Wait, what?”

Tony blinks, stopping his angry ranting. Steve’s face is flushed with clear annoyance, and he seems winded, clenching his jaw before continuing: “You walk out in the middle of our date and I’m supposed to just guess what happened? I don’t see how that’s fair.”

“Date?” Tony’s stuck, unable to hear anything else that comes from Steve’s mouth. He might as well be saying _choo wagga choo choo_ or whatever Sim Tony says when he can’t move because there’s a plate in the way. “That was a date?”

Steve looks crestfallen. “Yes? You—you didn’t think it was?”

“I. I. Uh,” Tony says, and, ok, probably Sim Tony would be more eloquent. “I wanted it to be,” he manages, voice going lower against his will, almost in a whisper.

Steve’s face softens. He uncrosses his arms, and Tony thinks something crosses his face, but it’s not – he can’t think it’s hope, he can’t. “It was.”

The words echo between them, and Tony feels like he’s stepped in another dimension, with the way Steve’s looking at him, face full of softness and—Expectation?

“I didn’t know that,” Tony says, like an idiot, and Steve gives a small smile.

“Clearly.”

“I thought… I thought you were bored,” Tony has to force the words out, but he feels like he has to, because he owes Steve that. “You were just so… tense.”

“I was nervous,” Steve says, and that almost sends Tony’s brain into shutdown, because – Steve getting nervous because of him, Steve wanting their date to work, _Steve—_ “Am nervous,” he adds, shifting a little on the same spot. “I was worried the date might not be a good idea. I. I’m so grateful to be by your side, Tony,” he says, and his voice drips with earnestness. “I was worried I could screw this up by wanting—“  
  
"More," Tony finishes for him. “By wanting more.” At Steve’s gaze, he adds: “I was worried about that, too. Am worried.” He takes a sharp breath. “I’m sorry for freaking out. I just… I assumed… I thought you were… I don’t know. God,” he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a tired laugh. “I wish things were easier between us.”

“I don’t think they can be. I don’t think I will ever understand you,” Steve says, but he’s smiling, his face is full of such open hope and fondness Tony can’t even think of responding. “But I would rather not understand you than understand anyone else. Uh,” He rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe that doesn’t make much sense.”

“No,” Tony says, taking a step in his direction, just because he wants to get closer, God, wants to be so much closer to Steve right now, even more than normal. “It, it totally does.”

Steve’s smile grows, reaches his eyes, makes Tony’s heart beat so fast he thinks it’s gonna jump out of his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tony hesitantly takes another step, and he sees the way Steve’s flush deepens at his proximity. He puts his hand on Steve’s waist, the lightest touch imaginable, because it still doesn’t feel possible, it feels like he’s going to wake up at any moment. “Listen, I’m sorry for ruining our—our _date,_ ” and God, the word tastes good, saying it like that, and the only thing that stops Tony from saying it over and over again is the thought that Steve’s lips are gonna taste even better. “And I definitely want to, to do it again, better this time, and, uh, maybe in a less greasy place?”

Steve’s smile turns bashful, and he looks down, but Tony doesn’t miss the way his body shivers and settles onto his touch, or the way his hands come to rest on Tony’s shoulder. “You like Burger King.”

“It’s not my usual dating spot, but, then again, if that’s what you want, I’m totally fine with it. We’ll have milkshakes under candlelight and everything,” he says, and Steve laughs. His body shakes when he laughs, and Tony is so ready for this, to cling to Steve and make him laugh and feel that over and over again.

“You’re cheesy,” Steve says.

Tony, in an impulse, leans forward and presses a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. Steve lets out a sigh, a small noise that Tony is eager to hear on repeat. “And you’re terrible at romance,” Tony says, but he peppers his words with kisses, short and slowly tasting Steve’s mouth, feeling how his lips pliantly open immediately, but taking his time.

“Tony?” Steve whispers, voice low, dizzy, breathless, and holy shit, Tony did this. The thought makes him want to swallow his name off Steve’s lips. “There is one thing you didn’t explain.”

Tony is, admittedly, distracted, still too caught up in the feel of Steve’s soft lips. “What?”

Steve pulls him closer, rests their foreheads together, smiling as he says: “What are you going to name our alien baby?”

Tony can’t fight back a loud laugh, right next to Steve’s mouth, and he’d feel bad about it if Steve didn’t laugh too, pulling Tony closer as soon as Tony throws his head back to laugh. “Oh, God, you saw that.”

“I saw it, and I’m a little offended you’d get me pregnant without telling me,” Steve says with a cheeky smile, and Tony’s all half-embarrassed laughter, half-an awkward kiss he just needs to press against that smile, just to feel the way Steve melts against him. “Will I have to pay child support?”

“Shut up,” Tony says, but he’s so caught up in the taste of Steve, in his warmth, his smell, he doesn’t really mean it. His brain is going into overdrive, thinking of dates, of plans, of all the ways he can make Steve smile like that again. “We can play together if you want to,” he adds on impulse, and then it’s Steve’s turn to catch his mouth in a long, grinning kiss.

“I’d like that."

**Author's Note:**

> (Tony starts out a sims family with himself and Steve, and Sim Steve gets abducted and pregnant and later has an alien baby. It's all The Sims silliness and there's no pregnancy in real life.)
> 
> ...and we have a blackout! :D I'm super happy for having finished the bingo, and I had so MUCH FUN writing this. Thank you for reading it (and for everyone who's been reading the other fills as well). Comments and kudos warm my heart. And, if you want to, you can [reblog the fic here](http://elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com/post/180706695950/motherlode-nanasekei-marvel-cinematic-universe).


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